


this moment here with you

by xxcaribbean



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1427392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxcaribbean/pseuds/xxcaribbean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on this prompt: porthos tenderly kissing the fingerprint bruises he left on aramis’s wrists and hips when they got rough the previous night. aramis kissing the welts and scratches he left on porthos’ back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this moment here with you

**Author's Note:**

> prompt is from [here.](http://sweetlyfez.tumblr.com/post/79179086711/more-ahahahaa-porthos-tenderly-kissing-the)

thing is, porthos likes to sleep on this stomach. which isn't necessarily a problem save for the way his entire body is lax and completely at peace. it leaves room for aramis to wake in the morning and simply stare at the man he spends his nights with.

and oh what a night it had been.

as cliche as it is, the moment they're behind closed doors, there is nowhere for the two of them to hide. out there in the world, when they're with athos and d'artagnan, fighting a good fight to right a wrong, they're heavily guarded with strength and less fear.

it's times like that, when things are rough, when they've got a backbone and have just ended the lives of a few men, that they search for themselves within four walls. most of the time they end up at aramis' place; easy, convenient, and a little more spacious than porthos' living quarters, but either room serves it's purpose.

the thin, red lines down porthos' back prove it too. aramis sits up, careful to rest against his pillow so that he's got enough of an angle to see clearly. each mark adds up with space of his fingers from when he'd used his short, blunt nails as a reminder that porthos was alive. porthos had done the same, aramis notices, as he reaches forward to softly touch the welted skin on porthos' back, for his wrists are bruised, and he aches with warmth and comfort from a good night.

aramis holds no shame, no guilt as his fingers trail softly across the expanse of skin. he's careful not to press, doesn't want to irritate the marks, even though he knows that the small amount of pain it might cause porthos will amount to nothing. their pain tolerance has grown increasingly throughout the years. the larger man will certainly wear them with pride, a secret amongst the two of them when they head into work later.

he can't help himself though. maybe it's part of his caring nature, a natural healer in disguise of a musketeer, but aramis finds himself leaning down, careful not to move lest he wake his partner. he then presses his lips against the top of porthos' shoulder.

the other man doesn't move, maybe breathes in a little deeper, but he shows no signs of waking. and aramis is fine with that, wants to do this for himself, a silent moment of appreciation and gratitude. a memory that will haunt him the day he’s on his deathbed, it’s that important.

he surveys the damage done, wonders how the material on porthos’ shirt will aggravate the small wounds. porthos will surely tease him rather than it being the other way around, likes the way aramis squirms with a smirk or a wink, a detail he found and was surprised by given aramis’ reputation for being a reputable lover.

aramis’ observations are stifled soon after though, as the muscles on porthos’ back flex as he shifts into an awakened state. aramis returns to his previous position on the bed, wonders just how long the other man had been awake for.

“that bad?” porthos mumbles, head still resting on his pillow despite the fact that his breathing has gotten heavier..

aramis reaches down, using his thumb to circle a gentle touch amongst taught muscle. “no more than any other time before,” he answers easily, cautiously removing his hand in case porthos decides to twist himself onto his back.

by doing so, though, he’s not careful, and it’s easy to tell the exact moment porthos notices the amount of damage he’d given too. he’s quick, hand wrapping around aramis’ wrist before loosening his hold, more than a little fearful of gripping too hard. aramis snorts, but doesn’t try to reclaim his arm. it’s only fair that porthos has a chance to look as well.

“these hurt?” he’s brought aramis' wrist down to his face, and just like aramis had used his thumb before, porthos is now mimicking those movements. his thumb rubs delicately against the purple and blue bruises, with purpose and care that others mistake porthos for lacking. he may fight like a brute, have hands that are calloused and rough, but his intentions are always fair.

“look worse than they are,” aramis says. he’s expecting for the matter to be settled, for them to climb out of bed and get dressed and go about their day.

but porthos, surprising as it is, is never what he seems. he glances up at aramis with big, brown eyes, turns his body so that he’s laying on his side (managing to keep aramis within his grasp) before bringing aramis’ wrist in for a kiss.

“didn’t mean to be that rough, then.”

aramis snickers and shakes his head. “you did, but i don’t mind.”

porthos responds with a fond smile of his own, one that makes aramis’ heart constrict, the thought of such fondness directed his way still too foreign. love has always been a fleeting thing for him and to have it so close and in his bed, well, he has yet to get used to.

“probably a good thing actually,” he proceeds, and when he gives a side-glance to porthos, he can tell that he already knows aramis is in a light mood. “can easily cover these up. the ones you left on my neck last time from biting was a bit of a nightmare.”

the furrow in porthos’ brow only confirms his confusion, trying to recall the moment aramis is speaking of. it dawns on him a second later, a grin on his lips. “didn’t get mad at me when d’artagnan asked if you were okay and properly scarred the boy.”

aramis releases a laugh, the gascon boy’s face coming into the frame of his mind’s eye, horrified and searching for athos to save him from any impromptu stories of bedroom adventures. and it’s not that either of them would give themselves away, but screwing around with the younger lad was fun, especially when the blush trickled over his cheeks and down his neck. scandalized, athos had scolded, before ushering the boy away from their laughter.

“of course not.”

“i’ve come to the conclusion that you rather like it though. slow and romantic,” porthos huffs, “is what they claim, but you’re more of a show off regardless of how it happens.”

aramis would press his hand against his heart, but porthos still has it in his grasp. instead, he settles for raising a brow with a challenging look in his eye rather than going for mockery. “nothing wrong with people knowing. bit of a thrill, isn’t it?”

porthos, for lack of a better answer, squeezes aramis’ wrist before letting go and sitting up. “then in that case…” he doesn’t finish, not when he clambers over aramis.

aramis, on the other hand, swiftly shuffles down so that porthos is framing him, no longer at a weird angle. his head finds his pillow easily, legs parting so that porthos has enough room between his thighs. by doing this, the sheets on the bed slip away, lower and lower, and it catches porthos’ interest enough to notice the bruises left on aramis’ hips, a smug smile forming.

“guess i caused those too, huh?” there’s not a hint of an apology in his tone.

with a lick to the front of his teeth, aramis answers with, “indeed, you did. too bad no one will get to see those.”

the narrowing of eyes happens, with porthos running his digits over the finger-shaped bruises. as the seconds tick by, porthos hums thoughtfully until he flickers his gaze up to find aramis staring. “guess i’m going ta' have to fix that, won’t i?”

aramis dips his head as if he would just before a duel. “mustn’t you?”

it’s clearly a deal when porthos laughs lightly, it deep within his chest and it quickly turning into a low growl. “that a challenge?”

there is no straight answer, but there doesn't need to be because actions speak louder than words. aramis draws porthos down to him by gripping the back of his neck and pulling him in for a rough kiss.

and needless to say, aramis will be more than happy to receive anything porthos inflicts on him, just as much as he'll like giving it too.

 


End file.
